


Turn this Darkness into Sparks

by GremlinGirl



Series: Desires of the Flesh [3]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/F, General Hux likes Rey more than he probably should, Kylo Ren is not as in control as he'd like to be, Phasma has no clue what's going on, Rey is playing everyone, a softer chapter, but there's some cuddling, no smut sorry, oh look is that plot??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 11:30:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7313452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GremlinGirl/pseuds/GremlinGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phasma's life used to be so simple. She was a Captain. She commanded troops. She followed orders. But now, after Rey has swept into her life like a desert sandstorm, nothing makes sense anymore. She doesn't know what her Dark Mistress desires from her, isn't sure what she might be scheming, and definitely doesn't want to forced to be around Lord Ren anymore than is necessary. However, when it seems everything could come crashing down on her, it's Rey's steady hand that brings her back to peace of mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn this Darkness into Sparks

Rey’s body hit the floor with a thump, the training saber in her hand flying across the room. Before she could stop it, Lord Ren slashed across her cheek with his own. She rolled and held out her hand, using the Force to get the saber to return to her hand. She turned onto her back again and blocked his next strike, which came right over her head. She kicked him in the leg and he actually stumbled back a bit, allowing her time to jump to her feet and resume her fighting stance. They circled for a moment, each eyeing the other and looking for a weakness, a chip in the other’s defense.

Phasma watched their fight with a bit of wonderment in her expression, however it was hidden under the helmet she wore. She had been ordered by Mistress Rey to come and observe their sparring so that she could later teach some of their techniques to the stormtroopers. Lord Ren had been uncertain about this, but Rey had convinced him, somehow. He wasn’t one for logic, she knew that much, but Rey seemed to have an almost magic touch when talking him into her ideas. Thinking on it, Phasma realized that Rey was good at talking nearly anyone into anything.

She was brought out of her thoughts when Rey managed to force her opponent to his knees, training saber at his throat. His saber was thrown across the room and she called it to her own hand, crossing the blades under his chin. A thorough and clean victory. Phasma would have liked to congratulate her, but the rage in Lord Ren’s eyes told her to keep her mouth shut. Rey seemed to access this too, and quickly pulled back, bowing lowly to him.

“Master, I ask that you not let me win in the future,” she mummered, almost too quietly for Phasma to hear but just loud enough that she could. She was sure this was no accident on Rey’s part. “It is no shame to be beaten by someone of your skills.” The girl lowered the training sabers to the floor. “I only hope to be half the duelist that you are someday, Lord Ren.”

The man stood, his expression changing from pure rage to just his general morbidity. He nodded to Rey. “Keep practicing, some of the parrys were sloppy.” With an air of indignation, he walked over and grabbed the top half of his robes that he had shed earlier. As he redressed himself, his eyes fell on Phasma and she felt cold shiver run up her spine. She kept her eyes trained forward, not looking at him. Even in the months following the destruction of Starkiller, and the loss of Lord Ren’s helmet, she hadn’t quite grown used to seeing his face. He had an expressive face, one that gave no doubt as to what he was feeling or thinking. It made her nervous to constantly see the anger and resentment on his face. Eventually he looked away from her and turned toward the door instead. Neither Rey nor Phasma dared move until Lord Ren had exited the room completely.

Slowly, Rey straightened and turned to look at Phasma, her eyes glinting playfully. She picked up the training sabers and took them back over to their proper places. “So, can you actually fight in that armour?” she asked, suddenly.

“Yes, my armour is durable enough to protect me and accommodating enough to allow for ease of movement,” she replied, keeping her tone professional and clipped as always. Phasma was still shaky on what exactly the nature of their relationship was. Even when they were alone, sometimes Rey treated her like her underling in the chain of command, which she was. Other times, she would treat her like a lover, which she also was. It was all very confusing.

“Why do you never spar in it, then? You always take it all off.” Rey was teasing her, she realized with a touch of surprise. “I mean, I’m not complaining. I do like to see your face, and other things, but I’m just curious as to why you wouldn’t just wear it all the time. If it’s so...accommodating.”

“If I may speak candidly, Mistress, it isn’t too terribly comfortable,” she said. “I do find that I prefer hand to hand combat without it. It feels much more personal. And it helps build up my endurance, to take hits without the armour on.” She hoped she didn’t say anything that Rey would take offense to. It wasn’t like she could say any of that to Lord Ren and keep her head.

But Rey did something unexpected, which honestly should be expected by now, and laughed at her. She smiled, then pushed sweat soaked strands of hair off her forehead. “And, tell me, when has anyone ever managed to land a hit on you? Besides me, of course.”

“It has been a good many years since someone has, Mistress,” she replied, keeping her tone carefully even. “As far as sparring with you goes, how could I ever hope to compete with someone of your superior skills?” Rey liked having her power acknowledged, and Phasma was always happy to comply with that.

The Dark Lady simply nodded. “Take that helmet off. I want to see your face,” she instructed, leaving no room for argument. As if Phasma would ever dare to argue with her anyway. She removed the helmet and shook out her hair slightly before tucking it under her arm, as was the regulation pose. Rey smiled, a barely noticeable change in expression. One that Phasma wouldn’t have noticed, more than likely, if she didn’t spend every second of their time together studying her perfect face. “Now come, kneel.”

“Yes, my Mistress,” Phasma mummered before walking over and lowering herself onto her knees. He let out a soft hum of pleasure as Rey’s skillful fingers worked their way into her hair. Calloused tips rubbed against her scalp and she fought the urge to turn into a purring lap cat under her Mistress.

“You have bested me in our matches before,” her Mistress said, voice thoughtful, contemplative. “I do not find my skills superior...just different. I know that if you were taught how to withstand my Force attacks, you could easily be a better fighter than me. As it stands, you are a beautifully powerful warrior and the First Order is lucky to have you.”

“Mistress, that’s not true,” she said, without thinking. The fingers in her hair froze for a moment, and she stumbled over her words to try and explain away her blunder. “I mean, that, uh, the First Order, it isn’t lucky to have me. I am lucky to have it. I am merely a loyal servant of it, nothing more. I would never consider myself anything more import-” She let out a soft whimper as she felt Rey’s fingers tighten against the short strands of her hair and tug back so that her face was tilted up toward the girl.

“Never, and I mean never, doubt your importance,” she said, eyes burning with anger. Her face, still beautiful, was alight with a fiery rage and Phasma felt a mix of fear and arousal churn in her stomach. She stared dumbly up at her, before Rey leaned in and pressed a searing kiss to her lips. It was rough and angry, but there was a hint of something else there that Phasma had no name for. Sooner than she would have liked, Rey pulled away and disentangled her fingers. “Get up, put your helmet back on, and return to your duties.”

Phasma stood and bowed to her, then replaced her helmet and turned to the door. She was glad for the helmet as it hid the blush on her cheeks. As she exited into the hallway, she tried to put the kiss from her mind, as well as her mistress’ words. That night, Phasma would scream for release which would be denied, the true punishment for disagreeing with her.

* * *

Having dinner in the officer’s dining hall was a privilege that Phasma had never taken lightly. The ‘troopers were given ration packets, sat down, ate, and left. In the dining hall, the officers would sit down to the meal and actually exchange polite conversation with one another. Phasma wasn’t the best at joining in the discussions, but she did enjoy sitting and listening to the others. It was also one of the rare instances that she was allowed to have her helmet off without having to explain why.

She usually started off at an empty table that would slowly fill with petty officers from different divisions. She found the most interesting topics came from those in the engineering divisions. However, this evening was different. General Hux himself came and settled into the seat across from her, leaving her stunned for a moment. He had never eaten with her before, and she wasn’t sure of the proper etiquette required.

“Captain, I do hope you don’t mind if I dine with you this evening,” he said, already settling in and folding a napkin to lay in his lap. He wasn’t asking, just providing some polite words to save face. Of course, it was his right to dine wherever he wanted, and Phasma had no authority to disagree with him. “Lord Ren and Lady Rey are supposed to be joining us as well, but I don’t see them. It would be just like Ren to be late just for the dramatics of it.” He rolled his eyes, clearly not trying to hide his distaste for the Force-users.

She nodded, straightening her back slightly. “May I ask if there is any particular reason? Did you have something you wanted to discuss with me?”

“No,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Lady Rey actually asked for us all to dine together. I...for some reason that I don’t quite understand, agreed to do this. You know I generally take meals in my office in order to maximize the time I spend working. But, she did seem to believe this was important, so I decided to humor her. She isn’t nearly as intolerable as Lord Ren. Though, I suppose you don’t spend a lot of time around either of them, so you wouldn’t know, right?”

Phasma glanced down at the table, then shook her head. “The Dark Lady and I have sparred together a few times, but other than that, no we haven’t worked together very closely.” She wasn’t sure why the lie had slipped out so easily. Phasma knew their relationship was taboo, against regulation, and she expected to feel a bit of guilt in lying to her general about it. But she didn’t. “I have no idea what she could possibly need to speak to me about, especially if it’s something that concerns you as well, General.”

General Hux just nodded in assent to this, then began to eat. She knew the general wasn’t particularly well-receiving when it came to the the two. In what little interaction she had seen between them, he was straight up hostile with Lord Ren and treated Rey with disdain. Still, it wasn’t her place to question this, so she followed his example and began to eat as well.

A few moments later a looming figure appeared at the end of the table, and Phasma fought the urge to look up at him, even as he came and sat next to the general. Lord Ren didn’t like making eye contact with his underlings; she wasn’t going to test his patience. Rey plopped down into the seat beside her, leg brushing against hers. Phasma was sure this wasn’t unintentional.

The general set down his fork and picked up his napkin to dab at his mouth. He glanced at him, then over to Rey who was already shoveling food into her mouth. “Ren,” he greeted, “Lady Rey, I assume you have something important to tell me.”

Lord Ren gave him a withering look, then looked at Rey. “Well...my apprentice did claim that she had something important to say, so I am here to humor her. That is all.” He didn’t have a tray, she realized. Phasma allowed herself to wonder briefly why he wasn’t eating before he spoke again. “So, please, inform us both of why you wanted us here.”

Rey smiled, that twisting of the corner of her mouth she did, and set down her fork. “Of course,” she said, “I wouldn’t want to waste our general’s precious time. I have formed an opinion, based on observing the captain here during sparring matches and training sessions with her ‘troopers. I have found that her and the ‘troopers alike are severely under trained to deal with Force-wielders.”

“Of course they are,” Lord Ren interrupted. “Why should they ever be trained to fight against them? The Jedi are gone, my Knights are all that is left. There is no need.”

“Luke Skywalker is still alive. The Resistance now has his location thanks to your mishandling of the situation. You don’t know what he’s been doing for the past fifteen years. We could possibly have a new Jedi Order to fight. He might be training Force-sensitives as we speak. Do you want to take that risk the next time we come to head to head with them?”

Phasma looked up from her tray and over to the apprentice with surprise. Was she entirely mad, speaking to Lord Ren like that? That’s how people ended up choked and thrown lifeless across a room, or with a red saber through their chest. Rey still had that smile on her face, eyes blazing with confidence. Phasma looked over to Hux who was staring at Rey with a mix of surprise and...respect?

Lord Ren, however, wasn’t so pleased. He stood, effectively catching the attention of everyone in the dining hall, and slammed his hands down onto the table. “You would dare question me like this? It was that traitor stormtrooper and the Resistance who blew up the base, not me.”

“You’re right, Master. I apologize for my insolence,” Rey said, no hint of remorse in her voice at all. In fact, her tone could only be described at flat. Phasma would have never dared to speak to a superior officer in this way, especially not to one as unstable as Lord Ren. She wasn’t sure if Rey was incredibly stupid or stupidly brave. “However, that does not change my opinion. I believe that we need to train the ‘troopers in how to combat a Force-sensitive opponent and that it’s important we begin this training right away.”

“You know that I have no time to be doing such things,” Lord Ren said, finally taking his seat again. His eyes flicked over to Phasma, and it took her a second too long to figure out that they were making eye contact. She quickly looked down to her tray, attempting to make herself look smaller than she actually was.

Just as she thought Lord Ren might throw her across the room, Rey distracted him, most likely saving her life in the process. “Yes, I am well aware of the important meditation, training, and work that you have. Which is why i would like to offer my services. You could consider it a part of my training.” Under the table, Phasma felt Rey’s leg press against hers and a hand come to rest on her knee. She tried to keep her face blank, even though this sent flutters through her body.

“Your training?” He reached across the table suddenly and pressed a finger to her forehead. Phasma watched out of the corner of her eye as Rey’s expression darkened slightly. “You are nowhere near qualified to be teaching anyone else anything at this stage.” He pushed her head back slightly, then retracted his hand. “No, no, I will take care of the training.”

“Actually, Ren, I agree with Lady Rey on this one,” Hux said suddenly, dabbing at his mouth again. “She has a basic knowledge of the Force, or at least I would hope so considering the months she’s been training under you. Most importantly, you don’t have the time. Not without shirking one of your other duties which I will not allow.”

“You’re both teaming up on me,” he accused with hiss. “Is the tin can captain in on this, too?” He made a motion that Phasma caught in her peripheral vision and suddenly her tray flew away from her and crashed into the wall on her left. “Fine, Rey, you can train your little pet and her minions. But I still expect the full fifteen hours of training from you a day.”

“That is understood,” Rey said, sliding her tray over in front of Phasma, replacing the one she’d lost. “I will not let you down, Master.” She stood from her seat and bowed lowly.

Lord Ren stood as well. Phasma could feel his eyes boring down at her for a moment. Then, he turned and walked off, boots stomping the ground loudly. Hux let out a sigh, then just went back to his meal as if he had never been there. Phasma looked down at the tray in front of her, Rey’s tray, and wondered briefly if her Mistress intended for her to eat from it or dispose of it for her.

“If you’ll pardon me General, I do have some training to see to,” she said with a nod in his direction. Phasma glanced up at her with questioning eyes. “Please, eat to your content. I apologize for my Master’s outburst.” Rey quirked a brow at her, then leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to her temple.

Phasma actually gasped aloud, unable to contain herself. Rey seemed to find humour in that, but she didn’t comment on it. Instead, she turned and walked away, her movements infinitely more lithe than Lord Ren’s. However, she couldn’t admire her Mistress’s movements for long. She was suddenly left alone with General Hux, who was staring at her with raised eyebrows.

The Captain could only bite her lip and stare at the food gifted to her, which looked entirely unappetizing all of a sudden. She felt that she should say something to the general, try to explain the kiss, the sharing of food. However, she couldn’t conjure up a believable lie or get the words to come out of her parched throat anyway.

“Haven’t worked very closely with her, have you?” the general suddenly asked her, making her jolt upright and look him in the eye. “Don’t look so startled. By the time she kissed you, no one was even looking this way except for me.” He balled up his napkin and threw it onto his empty tray. “You’ve been chosen by one of the Force-users that plague this ship, and that isn’t your fault. Though, I expect you not to lie to me about this anymore. Are we understood?”

“Yes, General, sir,” she said, fighting the urge to salute him. He seemed to appreciate this.

“Alright, I’ll speak with you tomorrow during debriefing, Captain.” He stood with no further goodbye and walked away. She didn’t dare watch him go, lowering her eyes to the tray of food again.

Phasma realized suddenly that her hands were shaking, and her heart was hammering away in her chest, like it was trying to escape. She knew she wouldn’t be able to stomach anything she ate, so she simply waited a few minutes before getting up and disposing of the food. It was wasteful, and she hated herself for it as soon as the food disappeared down the chute.

She replaced her helmet and slowly walked to her quarters, feeling nervous and on edge. Why had the general allowed her to get away with something like that? He might not be able to punish the Dark Lady, but she could have been executed for breaking a rule this badly. Even as she showered and readied herself for bed, she couldn’t seem to still the shaking of her limbs. She curled up on her mattress, on top of the standard issue blanket that did nothing to keep out the cold anyway.

About an hour passed before the door to her quarters slid open. She sat up, regarding the Dark Lady with confused eyes as she walked in. Her bag was not with her, and she simply stood there, the light from the hallway silhouetting her form. Phasma could not make out her expression, as her face was cast in shadows.

Finally, she placed a thumb on the touchpad and allowed the door to slide closed. Now, encased in darkness, Phasma blinked to try and allow her eyes to readjust. She noticed the figure in the dark move toward her, and she couldn’t help but lean forward slightly. Rey’s hand found her cheek, her thumb moving gently over the skin there.

“Lay down,” she commanded, and Phasma readily obeyed. She dropped down, her head landing on the pillow provided to her, and waited for the next instruction. She realized that just the Dark Lady’s presence had calmed her greatly, the shiver gone and her heart rate slowing to normal. “No, not on your back like that. How you normally would if you were going to sleep.”

This was...a strange command, but Phasma tried her best to comply. She rolled onto her side, pulling her knees up slightly. After a moment, she felt a smaller figure slip onto the bed beside her. She tensed up, unable to help herself. This was highly unusual behavior. A hand began to rub circles on her back, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“Mistress,” she whispered, “what are you doing, if I may ask?”

“I’m sleeping with you tonight,” Rey replied quietly. Her hand continued it’s soothing motion, and Phasma couldn’t help but relax fully. The weight of the highly stressful day began to slip away, and she let her eyes close. “Don’t worry about anything. Just sleep…”

Phasma didn’t hear the general sharp tone of her voice the Dark Lady used whenever giving commands. Instead, it was soft and almost sounded like a request. However, she didn’t dare not comply, afraid that she would offend her and Mistress Rey would leave her side. She realized that she didn’t want that to happen, no matter what. So, she allowed herself to drift toward unconsciousness, feeling Rey’s hand at her back and her breath ghosting over the back of her neck. Utter bliss, it was, before she fell into a dreamless sleep. 


End file.
